If people see me with my cane, they think that I've gotten worse; if without, they think I've gotten better. Truly, it is just a matter of whether I've forgotten the cane or remembered it. Therefore, the proof of my condition is in the pudding, i.e. my brain and its consistent inability to remember a thing more than say 50 percent of the time. In short, I have not gotten better. I am the same as the day before, and the day before that.
There is this notion that somehow we are going to recover, as though we had been suffering from a head cold or a sprained ankle and will gradually heal. Hey, you're looking good, they will say. Hey, no cane today! Good work! (again, as if I had been rehabilitating an injured leg through exercise and clean living).
People don't like the notion of not getting better. This is not amenable to the sorts of chipper salutations they hope will pass for real conversation. People don't like conditions that have no resolution. The reason I know this is that I am also a person.
The onus therefore to supply satisfaction is placed upon the sufferer. He may provide comfort--Yes, I do believe that I am feeling better--or he may tell the truth--No, you idiot, people with MS DO NOT GET BETTER!
Ultimately, as so often happens, it comes down to how we deal with MS ourselves, and by extension how we deal with life, misfortune, other people, our problems, their problems. We weigh the individual case, we measure our current supply of energy against that to which it is to be applied.
Hey, you look like you're feeling better today . . .
Well . . . yes and no.